Bad Fanfiction
by Urchin of the Riding Stars
Summary: Danny wishes that life were just a little bit more like FanFiction. Big mistake. Desiree grants his wish, and now, he is at the mercy of an evil authoress whom is forcing the poor teen through the nightmares of the DP fictional world. Insanity assured.
1. A Lesson in Anatomy

Bad Fanfiction

Danny wishes that life were just a little bit more like FanFiction. Big mistake. Desiree grants his wish, and now, he is at the mercy of an evil authoress whom is forcing the poor teen through the nightmares of the DP fictional world. Insanity assured.

~*o*~

_Hello, my dears! I realize that I have a thousand projects that need doing, but I will try my very best keep this short. Essentially, this is me poking a bit of lighthearted fun at Danny Phantom Fanfiction, because while I do love it dearly, there are several recurring themes that occasionally make me quip a brow every now and again. Now, it's finally time to speak aloud what I normally mutter under my breath like the cowardly dork that I am. Please don't kill me if you feel I have insulted your favorite pairing/plot/indignant ghost boy who most certainly wants to destroy me for putting him on this venture._

_Danny: Between you and the majority of the DP Yaoi writers, I'm going to have to say that you're a heartless sadist. What kind of pleasure do you get out of this?_

_Authoress: Why in the world do you point out yaoi FIRST?_

_Danny: Because that's the truth of it: If you kitten-kicking ladies have taught me anything, (And I think it's painstakingly honest that most of you are girls, by the way) it's that pain and treating people inhumanely is perfectly acceptable provided that you do it to someone who's at your mercy. If you guys aren't sticking me with someone I hate, you're dropping a piano on my head, or-_

_Authoress: Yes, yes, Danny, you're a wonderful sport. I'll be appearing in this fiction as well, folks. Just as the Authoress._

_*Evil smiles all around* Let the fun begin!_

_Danny: I'm going to wish every type of cancer, several for body parts that don't even exist, on you._

_Authoress: Aw, Danny, you know I love you. Don't I always work things out for you?_

_Danny: 3_

_NOTE: All similarities to any persons or fictions is entirely coincidental. Or just simply very, very unfortunate._

~*o*~

* * *

><p>Level I: Confused Intercourse<p>

WE ARRIVE WHERE MANY DP STORIES START: THE BEDROOM. Danny stirs awake, smiling faintly in the darkness over a ridiculous dream he might have had. He'd been sitting outside the Nasty Burger with Sam and Tucker wishing that his life were more like a fanfiction. Danny Phantom had become a pop culture icon seemingly overnight after the incident with Pariah Dark, and now books were being adapted about his supposed origins. He'd browsed a few, cracked up with Sam and Tucker over the more ridiculous lines, (From the way that they'd drawn him on the cover, you'd think he was injecting horse tranquilizers into his biceps) but couldn't deny that he always appreciated the clichéd happy endings that didn't involve Phantom charging out his white stallion (Even though the boy could fly) out of a fiery, exploding building, cradling a dismayed bunny in one hand, and a buxom girl that looked suspiciously like him in the other.

Phantom was marked as a misunderstood, unsung hero in the stories. But hey, he always got the chick, and the two usually wound up making out in his fancy cave/mansion/walkup thirty miles in the sky.

While Sam and Tucker enjoyed a good roar of laughter at their friend's expense, Danny had sarcastically wished that his life could be more of the such aloud.

Unfortunately, just seconds after he'd made the stupid wish, his ghost sense had gone off, and he'd had to capture a smirking Desiree in his Fenton Thermos (Good for soup **and **vengeful, betrayed harem specters) before he could call it a day. He'd been troubled by the satisfied smirk on the ghost's face, but he'd pushed it to the back of his mind before long, said his goodbyes to his friends, and gone home for a well-deserved early night.

And now, he was stirring, though it was still dark in his room. Although his wrists were feeling really, really sort of uncomfortable right now, as though cold manacles with sharp edges were somehow digging into soft flesh that SHOULD have been heavily calloused after years of ghost fighting, but we're going to ignore that detail for now.

Danny tried to sit up, but could not. Sitting up properly was made somewhat difficult by the fact that his hands were stretched widely apart from one another, and, in the moonlight gleaming from the window, could see silvery chains bound to manacles around his wrists, which were tied to the bedposts. His feet were bound with rope, and each was tied to the end of the bedframe.

As this is somewhat of an awkward/erotic/terrifying way to wake up, and considering Danny was stretched out like a starfish, the boy let out a scream, but immediately a blue hand flew down over his mouth to silence him.

A pair of bloodthirsty eyes glittered at him from the darkness, and a familiar, malevolent smirk greeted him from above.

Haunted form dissolving out of the jet-darkness of the night (Ignore the fact that I just told you moonlight was coming in) Vlad Plasmius appeared beside Danny's bed, manic smile so…maniacal…..and filled with a pretensive lust that immediately tells readers what's about to happen in the next ten pages you review over and over again despite the fact the author has made it clear that it will not be updated in the distant future.

Stunned into muteness, Danny gawked at him, and the silence between the two was deafening. Vlad continued his evil smirk, but satisfaction faded away slightly as Danny only continued to gaze at him, dumbfounded, slightly akin to the way Tucker stared with unbelievable worship in his eyes at the recent/smallest/lightest version of a handheld computer.

"Well?" asked Vlad Masters impatiently. "Aren't you going to demand to know what I've done to you? For me to let you go? Aren't you at the very least going to try and go ghost, only for you to learn that it's somehow futile, so that I can elegantly and yet darkly seductively approach you in a way that sends shivers down your spine, and makes you quite uncomfortable?"

Bemused, Danny pulled lightly at his chains-they did not give-and a deep frown slowly settled over his eyes.

"Okay, I _tried_ Dad's undead chicken lasagna, and I'm seriously regretting it now."

Vlad raised an eyebrow in bewilderment, but Danny only let out a soft sigh, his brow unfurrowing as he turned his face back to the pillow, albeit somewhat awkwardly.

"But call me back when you can conjure up a nightmare that involves me in a dress," he murmured sleepily. "_That _kind of stuff normally brings up fan art, and a good few sessions in therapy."

Vlad stared at him, anger slowly beginning to trickle in as Danny began to settle back into sleep. Irritated, the man seized Danny by the shoulders, and wrenched the unhappy boy awake.

"**_WAKE UP, DAMN YOU_**!" he shouted, which should have woken the Fenton household members, but we're going to assume that they're somewhere in Eastern Peru for convenience's sake. "I'm here to assault you with mental scars and claim you as my own, assuming one round of sexual intercourse can bond one person to another forever!"

Danny woke up pretty quickly, but Vlad's satisfaction was short-lived.

"You cussed!" Danny snapped, attempting to whip up forwards in bed, but instead just proceeding to tumble on his face. "The censors will be on you like sharks to an open-"

Suddenly, Danny seemed to grow much more aware of the situation. Staring at his chains in confoundment, he immediately attempted to go ghost.

However, as he half expected, the chains only sent a painful jolt through his body, and, stars flashing before his eyes, Danny landed back against his pillow with a painful groan.

Vlad whipped around, consulted his manual carefully, turned around again, and started laughing maniacally.

"Seems you're not very good with the whole 'listening' concept, are you, little badger?"

Danny simply stared at him through the dark bangs that had fallen over his eyes, entranced. After a moment, Vlad began to grow a little bit uncomfortable.

"What?" he barked.

Danny only smiled sheepishly.

"Could you repeat that again? Your British accent is kind of adorable."

Vlad immediately saw red, and he seized a chair, which he then abruptly tossed out the nearby window in his wrath. He whipped around with gritted teeth, every contour of his face outlined with displeasure, and the dangerous aura that pulsated around him, akin to that of a vengeful predator, made the terrible looking haunt look like an enraged angel of hell burning with awful, fiery beauty.

Essentially, Vlad looked pissed.

"I, contrary to what YOU or what ANYONE else thinks, DO NOT HAVE A BRITISH ACCENT!" he shouted, abruptly setting Danny's dresser on fire. "I just happen to be more articulate, is all! Haven't you ever learned that a more intelligent enemy is clearly the more dangerous type?"

Danny cocked his head slightly, not seeming to care that half of his dresser was being eaten up by ectoplasmic flames.

"Could you say that again? It's the accent. It makes it hard to pay attention to much else."

While Vlad started foaming at the mouth, Danny looked uncertainly at the villain, tugging uselessly at his chains as he did so.

"Say, what sort of villain are you supposed to be?" he asked curiously. "Lex Luther, or that James Bond villain who's missing an eye and has a cat? You have a cat, and you're insanely rich, but you're not nearly as stupid as….uh, that guy whose name I don't know. Except for the fact that you get tricked all the time. And you always lose. But other than that, you're pretty darn smart."

Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose, and settled into the one chair that had neither been sit on fire, nor neatly deposited three floors to the pavement, face buried in his gloved hands.

"I'm not a villain at all, Daniel. Like I said, all I ever wanted was love. I'm a bitterly misunderstood character, which is precisely why I'm as appealing as I am."

Danny scoffed.

"All you ever wanted-GET REAL! Danielle loved you, and you nearly floor-palmed her into the ground just because you're a selfish, arrogant creep who can't get over forgive the man who helped you earn your fortune and gave you seriously wicked powers for falling in love with a girl you met in your heydays. Besides, how _loving_ can you be if you come to a defenseless teen's room in the dead of night and tie them up? Sounds kind of like you're more the deranged nutjob type."

Vlad checked his manual.

"I'm supposed to respond to that with cold rage, frighten you, and assert my dominance," he said carefully, after checking the manual's chapter _So Your Victim Is Attacking You With Broad Anger and Flawless Reasoning_. "But I think I'll skip that part and start coming onto you slowly, so we can allow a keen sense of dread and dawning apprehension to develop, hmm?"

With that being said, Vlad approached the bed, carefully applying Vaseline on his ivory fangs. Danny stared at him, eye twitching in outright horror as the man straddled him.

"W-Why?"

Vlad smirked.

"Because."

"But why?"

"Because I said so!"

"But why?"

"Because I'm evil!"

"But why? And I thought you said you weren't evil!"

Vlad considered the matter, thoughtfully looking out into space, hands still wrapped around Danny's forearms.

"W-ell…..I suppose it's probably because my parents didn't love me enough," he confessed, looking back at Danny with a shrug. "Which totally makes it acceptable, despite the fact that if someone in real life were to use that reasoning in a courtroom session, the majority of the decent population in this country would demand my stoning. As for mine being evil, that's very debatable, really. Certainly one can say that I've been wicked, but my character has already proved it is worthy of redemption, provided I were not to, for some bizarre reason, die a horrible and gruesome death alone in the vacuum of space. But certainly THAT will never come to pass."

Danny bit his lip, thinking for a moment.

"Your parents? I don't think they've ever been mentioned."

Vlad shrugged again, before his lips descended to Danny's neck, making the very nervous boy shiver.

"The majority of stories that these people write usually portray my father as a penguin-eating, puppy-kicking, no-good, fairly nasty, alcoholic/abusive father/cold, rich, distant father/ alcoholic, abusive, cold, rich, AND distant father," he mumbled, while his lips buried themselves in Danny's neck, making his words come out like mush. "As well as not being a very pleasant person. Mother's usually fine, although I think I hear accounts of her being a bank robber now and again, when people want to explain the source of why I'm such a horrible person, and portray me in a more sympathetic venue."

Danny cringed away from the man, looking disgusted.

"Dude, did someone forget to give you your happy medication tonight? I think my Dad has some downstairs, although he normally just calls it fudge."

But Vlad was too busy kissing Danny and assaulting the young adolescent's mind with painfully explicit images and ripping it apart as his body responded so eagerly to the man's soft touches, mocking his turbulent, tormented mind, with-

Danny abruptly struck Vlad across the face, successfully removing a molar. While Vlad was reeling in agony, Danny immediately sat up again, now angrier than ever.

"HELP!" he shouted out desperately. "HEEELLLLLLPPPPP! Ghostbusters! Police! ANYONE!"

And then, from above, a voice abruptly answered, sounding cranky.

_"Dude. I'm trying the best I can here, but I don't like rape fictions very much. I don't think this is working out so well."_

Danny blinked, wondering if at last the people who claimed that a day of judgment was soon coming forth were correct.

"Um, excuse me?" he asked the heavens above (I.e, his bedroom ceiling), his voice coming off as a meek squeak. "Beg pardon?"

_"Just hang on, Danny. Tell me anytime you want this to stop, and we can try something else. Can't make any promises that it'll be any better, though."_

Aghast, Danny pulled once again at his chains, dismayed. The voice sounded worried, distinctively feminine, and troubled.

"What the heck are you talking about? Those mushrooms I tried were the magically delicious ones, not the ones that people distribute at school."

_"Danny, you blockhead, this is your wish! I can only help you out so much, but only IF you trust me and IF you can outlast the next-"_

But Vlad's hands had found Danny's clothes, and it wasn't long before the man had torn them off intangibly, leaving the poor boy in his boxers. Danny squawked in alarm and tried to cover himself, but the man pressed the two of them together, his smile vicious.

"Soon enough," he hissed, his eyes smoldering with lust, and his smile now minus one fang, "We'll be navel to navel, and you'll be screaming my name as I plunge into you, both of us craving more, and-"

Danny's expression went blank.

"Um, dude. That's….um…."

The boy went scarlet.

"….not….anatomically….correct."

"What?" Vlad snapped. "Of course it is. Same as it is with a girl."

"Dude. Number one, it's not going to happen." Somehow, Danny was 112% sure that it would not, and could not, happen. At least, not now.

And not ever, if he had anything to say about it.

"Number two, well, uh, g-gay…..er….sex would be different with….t-two guys, regardless of whether or not it was consensual. At least if it were…."

The tips of Danny's ears turned red.

"Anal sex. But I don't have….female parts. I don't understand why you'd think I did. I'm not a girl, or a hermaphrodite."

_"Yes, well, that's a recurring misconception in these stories, dear. Most gay sex stories on FF aren't exactly written realistically, but considering that it's fanfiction, I wouldn't take it very seriously. If you'll pardon my vulgarity, Vlad would have to come in the….ah….back door."_

The two startled halfas (Where the hell did that term come from, anyway?) glanced upwards at the voice, but no woman was in the room. Vlad's brow furrowed, and he immediately checked his manual.

"I object," Vlad snapped. "I demand evidence."

A giant medical textbook immediately materialized in the air, and fell on Vlad's head. While the billionaire lay stunned in stupefied agony, Danny cautiously grabbed a corner of the heavy book, awkwardly dragged it over near the moonlight so that he could read, and started scanning the lines. After a moment, he let out a crow of protest.

"HA! She-whoever the heck SHE is-is right! You physically can't do that with a male!"

Vlad sneered.

"Doesn't mean that I'm still not going to assault you, child. By the end, you'll be begging for it, because although no reference has been made to my sexual history, and reason dictates that I could easily have been celibate these past twenty years in name of the woman I loved, I'm an absolute _stud_."

Danny inched away from the crawling man, paling considerably.

"And then what?" he asked weakly.

Vlad blinked.

"And then you fall hopelessly in love with me, of course."

"That doesn't make any sense. If I'd been raped, I'd report it immediately. Besides, regardless of whether or not I enjoyed it at the end, legality says that if someone says no and doesn't verbally take it back-if sex still happens, regardless of what that person says or does, it's still rape. And seriously, that's a seriously _sick_ way to form a relationship. What kind of respect can you have with someone who'd take advantage of you like that, or hurt you like that? That's just inhumane."

"Not so!"

"_Actually Vlad, I think he's right again,"_ commented the voice. _"I can send down the lawbook to show you again, if you'd like. And I have a psychological series of dictionaries that would support Danny's theory."_

Now, it was Vlad's turn to pale, imagining a hailstorm of heavy books to come thundering down on his head.

"No, no," he said hastily, uneasily backing away from Danny. "I'm quite certain we can do very nicely without. But who are you?" he asked, voice carrying an edge of a mocking jeer in it. "And just whom do you think you are to decide this?"

An electric bolt of lightning appeared in the sky outside the window, and the wind picked up into a savage, hollow howl while thunder deafening followed the savage jet of light that had flashed in the dark skyline.

The girl spoke again, although this time, she sounded threatening, albeit slightly muffled, as if she were trying to sound threatening whilst speaking into an oatmeal tin.

"I'm the authoress."

And, with that, everything but a gasping Danny Fenton abruptly disappeared into nothingness.

~*o*~

Level II: Angst

Blank.

It was all white….all empty.

Now thankfully clothed again, Danny uneasily turned around, staring at the endless white void before him. The light hurt his eyes. He was walking in a sea of non-existence, and, when he tried to take a step forward, the soft movement made a noise like deafening drums. He'd frozen in terror, listening to that noise faintly echo beyond time and eternity.

That was it. No more eating fowl motivated by the unholy powers of ectoplasm and the undead to do evil bidding before bedtime. Danny squeezed his eyes shut, his heart hammering underneath his ribs, a frantic spell of terror pulsating at his neck.

He tried to run. But he kept running….

….and running….

….and running….

But although his forehead beaded with sweat, and he'd at last had the good sense to transform into Danny Phantom, and fly upwards, he only continued heading up…..

…and up…

…..and only a complete imbecile could not guess by this point that Daniel Fenton met no limits in this empty place. Gasping with exertion, he opened his mouth again to scream, but a voice immediately spoke up in this lifeless zone:

"_Cheer up, Danny-I'm creating the next scene. Nothing_ too _bad will happen to you, I promise_."

Convinced that the stress of ghost-fighting, school, and maintaining a secret identity all throughout his long and painful adolescence had at last cracked his sanity, Danny closed his eyes, panic still circulating through his veins.

"….who the heck are you?" he asked feebly. Suddenly, suspicion crossed his mind.

"Wait a sec-I had a ghost try and 'narrate' my life before!" he exclaimed, his brow drawing into an outraged look of recognition. "Is this what this is? Another trap? Another lesson?"

_"Bingo,"_ said the voice again, sounding pleased. _"You wished for your life to become more like Fanfiction, Danny-boy. I'm here to show you why it might not be so pleasant to try."_

Uggghhh. Danny's shoulders slumped with weariness, and the unhappy ghost boy kicked out into empty space with a silver boot, hands tucked behind his back.

_Desiree,_ he thought, and groaned.

"Can't I just say that I learned my lesson and cut to the closing credits?" he asked hopefully. "Considering this isn't happening for the most part, and isn't plot essential, we can pretend it never happened, right?"

_"Sorry, hon. I really wish I could do that for you, but I can't let you return home until you've run the gauntlet."_

The gauntlet?

_"Seven reasons why you wouldn't want to live in the fiction that we make for you. I'm sorry, Danny, but no one should decide your destiny but you, and we're often horrible to your many, many counterparts. You're going to take a few of those counterparts' places, today. I'll be there to bail you out whenever it gets too rough, though."_

Danny meeped.

"Um….a-heh…heh…." He laughed weakly, although it sounded like quite an effort. The silver haired boy looked desperate. "Can't we reschedule this? Or settle? I'll pay. Or at the very least, TRY to pay. I won't play video games for three weeks."

"Sorry, Danny," said the voice. "Can't let you do plea bargaining."

And the world promptly exploded.

~*o*~

When the brilliant light had stopped burning before Danny's eyelids, the teen at last felt safe enough to lower the fingertips that had been thrown over his eyes with a small sigh of relief.

But then, he glanced at his now human palms, and did a violent double-take.

"What the-?"

Danny's nails has been painted a dark black, and his jeans were much darker and baggier than normal on him. A dark chain hung out of his pocket, and his shirt was no longer red, blue, and white, but black, and there was a solid yellow, unhappy face on it.

Danny immediately looked around his surroundings, finding himself in the depths of a trash-sprewn, stinking alley. Stars did not twinkle above him in the dark sky, but it certainly beat the endless nothingness of his previous destination.

Powdery broken glass tinkled and crunched underneath his black converse shoes (What had happened to those?), and he passed underneath a weak bulb flickering somewhat pathetically in the ruin, and he glanced at himself in a puddle, only to startle back. He was pale, almost inhumanely so, and there were black bands around his wrists, and dark shadows under his eyes that spoke of eye-lining origins.

Much to his horror, one of his ears had been pierced. His mother was going to slaughter him when he got home.

His hair was a great deal spikier than it had used to be, and Danny raised his shaking hands to it in horror. Why the devil did he look like a rock star-a rock star in mourning? Was he stuck in hell or something?

_"Something like that,"_ he heard the authoress say darkly. "_Welcome to angst fiction, Danny." _

And, with that, the light flickered out, and it started to pour.


	2. It's A Horrible World After All

Bad Fanfiction

Level Two of Fanfiction Hell: It's A Horrible World After All

~0*0~

Hello again, to those of you who have chosen to tune in. ^^ I don't know how far BF will go, but thanks to aslan333 and Shenzuul, we have Part II of our descent into Fanfiction Hell. Thank you so very much, darlings, for your support.

~0*0~

* * *

><p>Danny turned around in the darkness, his heart dancing with fear. Shielding his eyes from the raindrops, he was startled when he felt a strange drop in his stomach come out of the blue.<p>

"I don't feel so good….."

He murmured uneasily to himself. Turning around blindly in the darkness, Danny fumbled forward in the alley in search of shelter, thankful at the very least that it wasn't VERY cold outside as he wrapped his strangely pale arms around himself.

Then, a pile of snow dropped out of the sky, squishing the poor ghost boy directly into the ground face first with a startled "Mmmph!" The raindrops turned into snow, and then into hail, and then into snow and hail. The hail bounced off Danny's skin, and he felt each one strike as though someone were hurling baseballs at him from the sky. Wincing, Danny sat up, very concerned about his dark eyeliner all of a sudden.

He glanced into a puddle, and was pleased to find that he looked both sleep deprived AND depressed. Shivering madly, he made to stand up in the enormous pile of snow, but just as he finally wobbled his way back to his feet, he heard a strange rumbling behind him. Curious, he turned around, only to see a pair of headlights zooming towards him, and a horn sounding.

Danny stared at the lights, deadpanned, before faintly recalling that his body + heavy ton of metal moving at 70 miles per hour =not such a very great thing. He inched away slightly, just barely missing the car, which stopped abruptly after it zoomed past, roared back in reverse towards him, and someone hurled a banana peel directly at his head.

The teen didn't even bother to move the sticky slimy peel as the car hurried off again. He just stood there, in a mounting pile of snow, faintly wishing that he had thrown himself under the car when it had so generously come back to him to offer sweet, sweet death. He liked pain.

"I like pain," mumbled Danny, evidently not listening to his narrator. He stood in the snow, allowing the freezing cold to sink into his steel-toed designer boots, feeling an overwhelming sense of emo-ness sink into his deepest darkest depths.

At last, when he was assured he was indeed wet and freezing but his eye makeup was unharmed, Danny started trudging off aimlessly, not caring where he went, or whom he ran into.

An old woman knocked Danny into a snow bank, fished out his empty wallet, and ran off cackling. He just lay there in the snow, wishing that hypothermia was more quickly to come.

Or was it hyperthermia with cold? Great. He didn't know, which made his feelings of self-loathing and hatred for all the world's kindred freeze and boil inside of him simultaneously, even though that was phonetically impossible.

God, he felt like tacos. Literally, like tacos. Like tacos no one wanted nor would ever want. Or had ever wanted, really.

Danny rolled onto his back, and promptly rolled away as a flying piano came hurtling toward him from a dark building top, smashing and splintering into pieces. He knew exactly how that piano felt, even if it could not feel anything. That was it: He could not feel anything. He was numb to the world that was so viciously unkind to him, and revolved only to make his life miserable.

Why, why, why, why? His hair was ridiculously spiky, he had a brooding expression that made him look rather intriguing, and he incorporated leather and chains on his body in such a way that he looked like a bondage slave, which he knew without a doubt girls found irrevocably sexy. He was hot, even if he looked like he'd never seen the light of day. He supposed this somehow made him hotter, or somehow, although it was so very cold outside, and he was probably going to freeze to death after being in chilly weather for ten minutes or so.

But again, he wasn't quite positive, so he supposed, as he stood up, only to have a small child run up and kick him in the kneecaps, he might write himself a bit of a Rhyming Hum, like Winnie the Pooh did when he was off in his Thinking Spot in the 100 Acre Wood, or visiting with that hot chick named Christopher Robin.

Eyes watering in pain, Danny sank to his knees, and stood up once again, thoughtfully considering his revolutionary Hum. Only this Winnie the Pooh was emo, and his shirt was emo, and his fur was emo, and instead of humming about streams or a smackeral of honey, he was going to sing about Important Things, like the dead puppy he'd seen on his twelfth birthday, guts spattered across the wall, how much he felt like tacos at this moment, and how isolated and miserable he was despite the fact that he had an irritatingly loving family and support system around him.

Danny started humming lyrics from bands such as Three Days' Grace and Green Day, knowing that there is nothing quite so original as using other people's work to express your feelings.

Thankfully, as he trudged into a filthy city and started to walk home, the unpleasant background music could express what his poignantly unhappy face and slouching walk could not: He was not much at all specifically necessarily overwhelmed with overwhelming bliss and euphoria.

What did he have to look forward to tomorrow? He just needed a second to think. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts.

When he got home, his father was going to shout at him about beans and then about fudge, and then about fudge and beans, and he would whack him upside the head with a stuffed sock monkey before crying himself to sleep in a corner. His mother would probably try and dissect him again, and steal some of his ectoplasm to sell so that she could fuel her rubbing alcohol sniffing habit. And Jasmine would shout at him and shout at him and shout at him, and jump on his bed while he tried to sleep and throw things at him, and then try to run him down with her car and have him break up with his girlfriend and steal his cookies and glue his locker shut and not wish him a happy birthday. Then, Sam would try and shoot herself, and he would have to stop her, much as he did every day, and Dash would drag him to the dumpster out back, toss him in it, draw him out, throw him in a crate, smelling like garbage, and mail him to Madagascar without wishing him a happy birthday. And then he'd break up with Ember, because the two didn't have enough in common, though they were certainly depressed enough, and she would kill him, and his ghost would be left haunting an undershirt factory filled with young orphan kittens laboring in sweatshops under dangerous health hazards to bring home pennies for their cruel usurers whom served as their only legal guardians, whom took their wages to fuel their rubbing alcohol sniffing habits, and they'd send the kittens to Danny's haunt again and again without wishing him a happy birthday.

Those were some nice thoughts.

Danny stared longingly at a potato peeler in a garbage pail, wondering if he should use it try and commit suicide by slitting his wrists, even though a very, very small majority of those whom are actually successful in committing suicide in the United States are able to do so by slitting their wrists. So Danny thought that he would simply go home, cry himself to sleep, and write some hideous poetry about the misery of his existence, which went something like this:

_Oh_

_I feel like tacos _

_Not for eating-I feel like I'm a taco itself _

_Rotting away in a cesspool of filth_

_Being picked apart by greedy, disease-carrying birds _

_Whom then die, and are eaten by plague rats_

_Whom affect the populace and spark some new disease _

_That terrifies people, and although a cure is found_

_There are too many injections left over_

_So, they throw them into the sea_

_Which are then-_

Finally, Danny lost it.

"ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT!" he bellowed at the sky. "I GET IT! ANGST FICTIONS ARE OFTEN HORRIBLE! HORRIBLE! JUST GET ME OUT OF THIS HELL! I GET IT! I GET IT!"

After a moment, much to his relief, the authoress answered gently:

_"Not all angst fictions are bad, Danny. A lot of them have happy endings, which technically defer them as 'fluff' or 'flangst,' because there's fluff, and there's angst."_

Danny raised a dramatically shaped eyebrow, which had a piercing shaped like an unhappy face.

"Isn't that more along the lines of….Hurt/Comfort?" he asked cautiously.

_"Exactly!"_ cried the authoress' booming voice from above. _"You're beginning to understand."_

"I don't understand at all."

_"Which means you understanding perfectly. These sort of fictions normally wind up with you either killing yourself, or someone coming to carry you out of the cold in big, strong, muscular arms."_

Danny shuddered in horror.

"I thought we were PAST the yaoi thing?"

The Authoress realized Danny could not hear her shrug, and so she simply said, _"Lots of people like to incorporate them all. Occasionally, it's a girl who's in the position for whatever reason, and you go to save them."_

"That's a little more like it," admitted Danny approvingly. "Um, if you don't mind me asking, is it usually Sam?"

_"I guess so. Sometimes Danielle, sometimes Valerie, sometimes Ember." _

Danny blinked.

"Well, um….okay…..well….do I ever rescue someone like Paulina?" he asked hopefully. "I mean, PaulinaxDanny fictions have got to be pretty popular in your world, right?"

His heart sank when he heard the sounds of what was undeniably an authoress doubled up in laughter. When she had stopped, she said:

_"That's for the Pairing level of Fanfiction hell, Danny,"_ she said, somewhat reprovingly. _"You haven't even gotten to the Third Level of Fanfiction hell: Character bashing." _

Danny blinked.

"I don't like the sounds of this. Just how many levels are there?"

_"A lot,"_ said the authoress unhelpfully. Danny's shoulders sank.

"Look, did I do something horribly, horribly wrong in my life, and thousands of girls-"

_"-guys too, Danny-"_

"Yeah, sure, whatever-did I do something horribly, horribly wrong in my life, and thousands of people just made it a point to become my eternal tormentors?"

"Something like that, dear, although most people DO like you, and want to see you happy. It's just THEIR own interpretation of what makes you 'happy' may be a little different than yours. Now come along, hon-we've got the Third Level to visit now."

Danny desperately looked around him in the Angst fiction world, wondering where a chicken truck was when you needed it to run you down in the street right that second when the world disappeared once again, and the boy found himself floating in nothingness.


	3. Can You Feel The Loathing Tonight 1 of 4

Chapter Three:_ Can You Feel The Loathing Tonight?_

_Part 1: Character Bashing  
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><p>Hallo, loves. ^^ Missed you! Anypoodle, I've got a busy week coming up soon, (Several examinations are coming up, and papers need to be done) so I might disappear again after this update for a while. :( Ah, well. If I'm pushing the fourth wall (Yet again) in this story, tell me if it's too much-I'd rather not completely lose the story element of this satire.<p>

Danny: A good portion of it already goes to anguishing me.

Authoress: 'Anguishing?' Okay…..I believe that _is_ a word, but can you use it in that context?

Danny: I dunno. If one author uses it, however, than clearly it is quite acceptable and grammatically correct. Just as how everyone's perspective on what is 'canon' is correct, despite the fact that it usually isn't remotely close.

Authoress:….okay….back to the torturing part. Danny, darling, I'm just one of many. Believe me, I do love you, even if this story is probably going to send you to a cozy home where straitjackets are dress code.

Danny: (Quietly) I'm going to kill you in your sleep.

Authoress: Beg pardon?

Danny: I said, I'm going to kill you in your sleep.

Authoress: Oh, okay. Didn't catch that earlier. Anyway, I'm not going to bother listing the copyright, or beg you not to sue, because you're already on a FanFiction (SEE THE WORDS? Fan. And Fiction.) page, and to remind you all that I do not own the rights to said characters would be both boring and redundant. You can neither track me down nor punish me, (Though you can always revoke my page, and I suppose I might want to shut up) so **HA! Ahaha! Ahahahahahahahahah!  
><strong>

But since you're here anyway, I might as well mention that this little circle of torment is dedicated to CatalystOfTheSoul, for sheer awesomeness. *Huggles* Thank you so much, my dear-you truly made my day!

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><p>The world reformed itself from out of the void once again, (Leaving the Creationism readers of this fanfiction quite pleased) and after an awkward second or two of drifting through subspace, Danny's normal, now non-designer shoes hit the carpet of his family's living room. Shivering slightly, and the world flickering oddly before his eyes, Danny cautiously turned around, staring at the familiar coffee table, turned off television set, and textbooks with labels such as <em>Serial Killing for Dummies<em> lying strewn all over the-

His mind went blank, and the boy immediately picked up another volume, cringing at a step by step picture of someone getting disemboweled by demonic kittens that had died via mass in dangerous and unsanitary conditions in a factory somewhere.

_What the he-?_

But before he could aptly complete his swear and spit in the faces of the censo-er, the directors of Nickelodeon, (And the children for whom Danny's show was intended to be marketed for) Danny let out a startled squawk as the floor started rumbling violently, and the teen abruptly lost his balance and fell to the ground. The entire house was trembling, and Danny could hear the sound of dishes smashing from somewhere in the kitchen. A vase and a few photos began to tumble off the nearby mantle, and the teen quickly caught them as he clung to the wall with his free hand, trying to steady himself.

_Earthquake! _An Action fiction? A drama?

But just as soon as it had started, it was over, and the house was still once again. Gulping, and trying not to voice what else could possibly go wrong before golf ball sized hail could start falling, Danny uneasily inched around the messy family room, and glanced out the cracked windowpane to take a look at the damage.

But to his surprise, no trees had tumbled near his street, nor were any lampposts disturbed. A woman was jogging across the street with a Cocker Spaniel, looking as cool as clay. No cracks in the sidewalk. No car alarms going off.

He glanced curiously out the door. No neighbors were spilling outside; and no dogs were barking or people screaming. Wasn't that what people normally did after Earthquakes? Before they started pillaging and looting and all those neighborly activities people did after a disaster?

Danny's eyes traveled to a familiar-looking antennae lying on the front lawn that must have broken off just seconds ago. Huh. Scratching his head slightly, Danny grabbed it, and walked it in, wondering if he'd finally cracked and wound up at the funny farm, or if the Authoress had instead decided to transport him to the level of hell known as _'Stories that Don't Really Go Anywhere or Serve Any Purpose Whatsoever.' _

As if to answer his thoughts, a dreaded female voice from above him answered mildly:

_"That's later, hon. But for right now, you might want to get out of the way. Things are about to get a little nasty."_

Danny shot a bewildered look at the sky, but before he could voice his complaints or plea for mercy, the basement door slammed open, and emerald smoke started to pour in. Eyes stinging and watering, Danny started hacking, heart nonetheless buoyant with his relief as he opened his eyes, and saw two very familiar silhouettes stagger out from within the basement depths.

Of course! There hadn't been an earthquake at all. His parents had only been experimenting in the lab again. Or his mother had been cooking. He fervently hoped that it was the former-his stomach was shaken up enough as it was.

As his Dad's exhausted, now ashy-gray face came into view, a concerned Danny stepped forward, wondering if his parents might have injured themselves. But soon enough, his mother's face appeared, and, slightly aghast at what he saw, Danny inched away. Every inch of his mother's lovely, normally kind face had raw anger in every inch of her harsh expression, and her scarlet goggles seemed to be glowing an unholy, bloody red.

Mouth dropping in disbelief, Danny was about to ask a question, but his father turned entreatingly to his wife before their son could speak, wringing his large hands together anxiously.

"Is it because I burnt dinner?" he asked weakly, the last remaining color draining out of his cheeks as Maddie's head slowly revolved a full 360, as if the woman had become part owl. "T-t-tootsie pie, I-I hate to see you s-so unhappy."

Danny still didn't speak. He was too busy trying to gasp for air, now tremulously pointing at his mother's head, which still pointed directly backwards. The happy couple didn't seem to realize he was there; Maddie was still glowering at her husband, and the man slowly dropped to his knees, and, much to Danny's horror, started to lick at her boots, pausing to look up pleadingly at his wife's expression.

" Maddie-kins, I know that I'm n-not n-nearly as g-good a c-cook as y-you, but that e-ectoplasmic o-oven just keeps a-a-animating the dead poultry b-back to an u-unholy life," he quivered, as Maddie's mouth slowly opened, and Danny was terrified to see ivory fangs gleaming where his mother's teeth should have been.

Thankfully however, she did not sparkle. However, she seized her husband by the front of his shirt, silencing his weak pleas almost immediately as she heaved him to his feet, still glaring murderously. If looks could kill, Danny would have ordered his father's casket by now. Or at the very least, would have seen him in traction.

"**_BRING ME A SANDWICH_**," said Madeline sinisterly as she dropped Jack like a sack of potatoes onto the floor. It was as if some creepy voice were speaking at the same time she did, merging the two into one big happy antichrist effect. Danny sensed no ghost in the air, and realized, to his astonishment, that his mother wasn't being possessed.

"B-But M-Mads, w-we're out of b-bread-"

Suddenly, Madeline threw her head back, and roared like an angry tyrannosaur, (Which is a little ridiculous because no one knows what a tyrannosaur sounds like, so we'll just say she sounded super very rather kind of absolutely not awesomesauce) before spewing the floor with a liberal amount of black fire. Danny let out a scream, but the woman had already seized the terrified man by the front, heaved him into the air, and was now staring him down with eyes that were so blisteringly hot that they melted the goggles off her face. Jack looked ready to wet himself.

"JACK," screamed Madeline, her voice becoming truly unpleasant if you weren't paying attention before. "**GO TO THE GROCERY STORE, AND BUY ME A LOAF OF BREAD FROM A WAGE SLAVE. IF IT IS NOT GLUTEN FREE, I WILL EAT YOUR ENTRAILS, AND SHOVE A DIAMOND-EDGED CHAINSAW SO FAR _UP YOUR BUTT THAT YOU'LL BE COUGHING UP DIAMONDS_."**

With that, a forked tongue wet her lips, and the woman irritably dropped her husband to the floor. Not even so much as looking at his son, the terrified man immediately fled for the door, not forgetting his hat on the way out.

Maddie turned to look at Danny. Stricken, he stared at her, response time so horrifically low that the authoress wondered how in the world Danny lived long enough to reach a second season.

"Hello, Danny," she purred, and Danny flinched at the grating sound. "Did you get an A on your history test?"

Collecting himself, not knowing whether to cry or plea or fight or find a reliable health food store chain somewhere in the yellow pages, Danny opened his mouth, closed it, and tried again.

"H-H-Hi," he answered, hating his soft and squeaky voice. She could probably smell his fear. It smelled like tacos. "U-Um….I got…..I got an…..Eighty-Seven?"

Madeline's eyes widened, then narrowed, and then, a truly vicious and terrible smile lit up her face.

"Sorry, darling," she answered cheerfully, reaching for a lever behind her that Danny assumed must have been hastily constructed whilst she was haranguing her husband. "Eighty-seven just isn't enough to live."

And the floor suddenly disappeared behind Danny's feet, and the screaming boy disappeared straight into the darkness of a trapdoor, hearing his mother's cruel laughter and the bloodthirsty meowing of kittens in the depths below towards which he plummeted….


	4. Can You Feel The Loathing Tonight 2 of 4

Can You Feel The Loathing Tonight? 2 of 3

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><p>Hello, everyone! :D<p>

This Chapter might not be quite so funny as the others...hope regardless that you enjoy it and review. ^^

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><p>He really hoped that he was somehow still dreaming and that somewhere, Leonardo Di Caprio was attempting to steal his thoughts, or something.<p>

Alas, it was happening that Danny was sliding down a death slide (Which he found remarkably enjoyable) before he landed in a den of bloodthirsty kittens who devoured him, and then rotted away before a horst of plague-rats picked delightfully through the corpses, and then-

And then the authoress remembered that Danny could in fact fly. The authoress is huddled under bed in fetal position at this point of time.

Soaring triumphantly over the paws of his disappointed foes and avoiding a horrific and adorable demise, Danny phased back through the ceiling, just in time to see his mother march down the stairs of the lab, shouting obscenities all the while.

"Gosh, my mother isn't acting her normal chocolately-coated, super-special-awesomesauce-erific self today," mused Danny, looking troubled. "I think I'm going to drop the author of this story a nasty note telling them to go off themselves for not keeping a children's TV show canon on a site specifically built for evil little writers to do with what they will with copyrighted characters without actually breaking the law. And then I think I'm not even going to bother to leave my name, because while I'm totally okay with throwing rocks at people when their back is turned, if they actually can contact me back, I fear confrontation."

Worried, Danny cast an uncertain look at the smoke still wafting around the room, coughing slightly as he tried to wave it away. "Okay. Is this story about how Vlad decides to take over my Mom's mind to turn her and my Dad against each other? Because it's actually not a bad idea, but I don't think Vlad would be interested in a Valkyrie that feeds off of dead puppies and low-cal wheat bread."

_"Well, Danny, you have to understand this particular level of hell is known as the character bashing,"_ said the Authoress patiently from somewhere up above_. "You really need to learn to listen more. Should I send you a hearing aid?"_

Danny thought he knew where the authoress could stick it, but remembering a particularly fond memory in which Vlad Masters had been hailed upon by an avalanche of textbooks, decided not to press it.

"Uh, no thanks. I don't really like the sound of character bashing. Is the idea that someone just gets hit over and over again?" Danny winced when remembering his mother trying to force his father to eat carpet earlier.

"_Well, it CAN mean that," _said the Authoress helpfully. _"If a lot of artists were any more subtle about it, they'd be tossing anvils on the heads of the characters they particularly dislike. That's one thing you have to appreciate about the animators in the early twentieth century. They're honest; each and every cartoon is typically spent character-bashing SOMEONE. Literally AND figuratively."_

"Teach children that the laws of physics don't apply, getting shot at can't hurt you, you can protect yourself from a falling piano by carrying an umbrella, racist jokes and slurs, the same backgrounds used over and over again, and hopelessly repetitive plot twists?" snapped Danny. "Oh yeah. Sounds great. But I digress-before I try to kill myself with sheer mind power, can you elaborate on WHY people do this?"

_"Well sometimes, when people have a favorite pairing in mind but see a canon obstacle, often in the form of a sensible female character with actual brains-"_

Danny clutched at his chest, looking horrified. The authoress tries to kill Danny using sheer mind power.

_"They turn that sensible character and turn her into a raging monster and a jealous toadyucky with no sense of hygiene, kindness, self, heart, loyalty, or the likelihood of them wishing you a happy birthday. They exist in a particular story just to cause trouble, and, if the emo-author happens to have some frustration they'd like to vent out on an animated character that has done them no harm whatsoever, then they usually get hit by cars, pushed off of bridges, or booted off the island. Prime examples would be Sam from your series-"_

"Hey, why would anyone ever wanna bash SAM?" demanded Danny, sounding angry. "Just because she's the most un-fun character on the series and is slightly anal and hypocritical, and we really aren't shown to have much in common at all, she's a charming peach basket. No one should bash with my one and only love interest."

There was an awkward silence from above, and Danny thought he could hear a _glug-glug-glug_ sound coming from above. The authoress cleared her throat, now refreshed, and sighed.

_"Yes. One. And only. Love. Interest. That. Is. Correct. It. Is. Totally. True. Even. If. The. Creepy. Almost. Morse. Code. Way. I. Am. Speaking. Indicates. That. Something. Is. Wrong. With. That. Sentence."_

"Well, now that that's cleared up, what are some other reasons people bash characters?"

The authoress silently and thankfully acknowledges that despite the fact that she is as subtle as a flying mallet or an elephant walking into the room with an _'Hello, I am Subtle'_ sign around its neck, Danny is remarkably dense in the series and in most fanfictions, therefore, there won't be a vast number of people flaming about OOC-ness.

_"I dunno. Sometimes, they just don't like them, and/or they need the plot to move along. Some people have done that with Jack by turning him abusive-"_

Danny's eyes just about popped out of his sockets as he sank down onto a couch, head in hands.

"Wha? Why?" he demanded, getting angry again. "My Dad is really nice-why would people DO that to him?"

_"Like I said: Plot. Some people just like to turn Jack mean so that Vlad can come swinging on a web to save you and become your new Daddy. Those stories are surprisingly popu-"_

Face paling with horror, Danny immediately seized the sofa's arm, and abruptly emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor behind the couch. Cringing, the authoress sent down a vomit bag, which Danny thankfully ceased and started to heave in.

"You'd be surprised. Vlad is actually a pretty popular character, and because the majority of your show's fans are girls-"

"Why?" demanded Danny, in-between tossing cookies in the magic bag. "What is WRONG with people?"

_"-they like to see happy-happy-gooey 'd'awww' factors in the story,"_ said the authoress. _"Therefore, it is totally acceptable to expose a person to severe mental, physical, and emotional trauma for the sake of being able to see a cuddly ending where the enemy is assuring the hero that all will be well, and sparkly, non-flesh eating kittens are vomiting up sugary goodness as you ride into the sunset. I must confess I'm a fan of that genre, myself. I even started a group on DeviantArt dedicated to the many pictures devoted to the F/S pairing between you two."_

_And, with absolutely nothing left to live for, Danny sent an ecto-bolt directly into the base of his skull, and while this kid has had buildings fall on top of him and emerged no worse for wear, popular suicide fiction dictates that this was enough for the boy to end his miserable existence in the depths of Fanfiction hell, hoping that next time he might just be a cameo in a bad cross-over fiction, which 98% are bad, but it still beat this crooked plane of endless suffering. His broken body crashed to the floor, and he became human for the last time, ectoplasmic wounds turning into blood, which spilled into the carpet, painting a grim and terrible sight for all to behold, even though most emos don't really care what they look like at actual successful sui-_

_"Nice try, Danny,"_ said the Authoress sympathetically. _"I heard those thoughts. Not going to happen, darling. Sorry."_

Stomach empty, but still heaving nonetheless, Danny sagged against the couch, hand pressed against his aching temples. "Darn it. So, those are the real reasons of character bashing? I don't-"

Suddenly, the door rang, and, expecting to see his father back with sandwiches and a plea for almighty mercy, Danny went to go answer it, phasing back to his human form as he did so.

"Say, shouldn't the house's security system be freaking out right now?" asked Danny curiously, pausing as his hand reached the doorknob. "It starts reacting whenever the sensors pick up ectoplasm, and starts pelting them with creepy stuff with Jack Fenton ©'s face on it."

The authoress is conveniently humming too loudly to hear Danny. Rolling his eyes, glad that he didn't spatter himself with sick, Danny opened the door, and his blue eyes widened.

"Valerie!" he exclaimed, surprised, but nonetheless pleased. "What are you doing here?"

Valerie Gray was standing in his doorway, smiling shyly, dressed in a lovely long-sleeved canary yellow shirt that was decorated with stars, and a modest yet attractive yellow skirt with silver trim. Her hair had been done, and it appeared somewhat glittery, though somehow not at all artificial, and her perfume was faint, but fragrant, and it caught Danny off guard by how fantastic it was.

She smiled at him, and opened her mouth to speak, and Danny started blushing at her dazzling smile. There were also small woodland creatures with ridiculously, disproportionately sized eyes that sparkled sitting by her feet, even though Amity Park was a good 30 miles away from forest life.

Valerie's melodic voice jerked him back down to Earth.

"Hello, Danny. Just wanted to stop by, and see how you-"

Suddenly, an ear-splitting roar broke the peaceful stillness, and Danny cringed as the sky went dark, and his mother's nearby begonias (Which had blossomed when Valerie approached) promptly withered away and died, and lightning struck one of the deer that had been nibbling at the lawn near a babbling stream Danny had no idea his family had. The deer tumbled down in a pillar of smoke, and the other animals promptly went insane and died of grief and denial of ice cream.

_"Sadly, that's how a lot of DP Tragedy fictions end,"_ said the Authoress sadly, as the entire ground started shaking this time. The two teens yelped, tried to grab each other for support, and tumbled to the ground, just as a colossal, fifty-foot tall, hideous version of Samantha Manson stepped in front of the house, her blown up-features searing with rage.

Her eyes pointed in different directions, and she let out a roar that just about blasted Danny and Val's eardrums out, right before slamming her fists against her chest to assert domination.

"MAH MAN CAKE," she grunted, before she promptly scooped up a terrified Valerie before Danny could tug her away. "YOU NO TAKE SAM'S MAN CAKE, OR SAM EAT YOU! YOU NO HAVE RELATIONSHIP WITH MAN CAKE YOU HAVE UH, UH…."

Sam blinked, and glanced to the sky. An answer came from above:

"Um…anything in common with?" answered the Authoress, always trying to be helpful.

Sam roared in approval, and then stomped away, Valerie looking stricken in her fist all the while. Danny's transformation rings appeared at his waist again, but the Authoress quickly intervened:

"No, no, don't worry. It's not actually happening; I just wanted to give you another example in case you didn't get it the first time."

Danny cast a very sour look at the sky as at last Sam's footsteps faded away, and he was able to stand without trembling.

"Yeah…somehow I think I got it," he said grimly, stepping back inside FentonWorks to replace all the fallen frames. Again. "And I think I know what side of the bread YOU'RE buttered on, lady."

The authoress sadly comes to the conclusion that Danny can't see her roll her eyes. _"Meh. I'm a Gray Ghost fan, hon. You'll have to forgive me."_

"What the heck are you talking about?" whined Danny, as he carefully started restacking the fallen picture frames on the mantle. "That wasn't a gray ghost-that wasn't a ghost at all! Why are you throwing around random phrases that don't make any sense? It's weird; I keep hearing these same phrases being thrown around stories, like 'Shallow Sapphire,' or 'Pitch Pearl?' Are they even supposed to mean anything?"

The authoress makes a note to take any and all sharp objects out of the pairing level of hell.

_"Well, I also wanted to give you a demonstration of character glorification. Essentially, you gloss over any and all flaws for your fav characters and essentially turn them into perfect models of what society's ridiculously high standards can relate to, by looks, achievements, and personality."_

"You mean like the Disney Princesses? They kinda change according to society at the time they're introduced," said Danny hesitatingly. "I mean, first you get Cinderella and Snow White who do nothing but sing and marry guys they don't even know so that they can eat bon-bons for the rest of their lives, then you get those that actually have some guts and-"

_"Danny stop throwing pop culture references in," _snapped the authoress. _"It's a really annoying habit of fictions to do so, even if the DP series has made references to real life people like football players and absurdly rich people like Bill Gates. When I read about DP, I want to hear about the Nasty Burger, despite its craptastic name, NOT about McDonalds. It breaks the fourth wall." _

Danny blinked, indignant and outraged.

"What is it **you've** been doing, then, you filthy hypocrite? And if you really want me to stop, then take me home. I've had about enough of this so-called 'adventure' of yours, anyway."

"I think you better apologize."

"I think you better shove a brick into your mouth. Besides, shouldn't you be directing me towards the PLOT?" asked Danny sardonically, while the authoress simmered. "It's gotta be around here, somewhere."

"_You better take that back and be polite, Danny,"_ hissed the authoress. Danny stamped his foot and swore.

"SERIOUSLY? YOU MAKE IT A POINT TO START TORMENTING ME, and you tell me to be friggin' POLITE about it? That's like, 97% of the sick fics that have Vlad raping me, in which I cuss, and he gets all mad and tells me to mind my FRIGGIN' MANNERS! Hi, I'm going to violate your personal space in the most vile way possible, so I expect you to treat me cordially and remember not to cuss, because remember people reading these crappy stories: Cussing is wrong. Rape is totally acceptable."

The authoress attempted to speak, but Danny is now sobbing helplessly into a pillow on the couch, wondering just how much the 'angst' level of hell had an effect on him.

"Why, why, why, why? Why can't we all just get along? LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE! LEAVE HER THE (*&^ ALONE, GODDAMMIT! Why is these fanfictions make it a point to spit on Issac Newton's grave? Why can't people just stick me with a girl and let me live happily ever after? WHY IS THAT SO MANY FANGIRLS CAN'T THINK OF ANYTHING AND JUST WRITE HOPELESSLY CANON STORIES THAT ARE HOPELESSLY PREDICTABLE AND DON'T GO ANYWHERE! **_AAAAAAAAAAA! AAAAAAAAAAAA! AAAAAA_**-"

Before Danny's last thread of sanity hangs itself in the hole where his soul used to be, a bucket of icy cold water comes hurtling out of the ceiling, and Danny is drenched/refreshed before he's abruptly struck upside the head by the bucket. The authoress cringed, and sent down an icepack, which landed on Danny's face.

_"….any better?"_

"A little, actually," said Danny, moving the cold pack over his head, and burying his face into the sofa. "So….if I want the plot to keep moving….what should I do?"

_"Anything,"_ offered the authoress. Danny quipped an eyebrow.

"So, does that mean we can spend this chapter doing the following? **And then, Danny was pleased to find a slice of coconut cream cake on his plate, even though the authoress doesn't think he'd like coconut all that much. He picked up his fork, only to realize it was a spoon, and got a fork instead, and sat down by the TV, and looked at the ample amount of frosting on that slice of cake. He turned on the TV. He watched TV. For a very long time. And then he remembered he had cake. And then he took a bite of cake. And then he chewed it. And then swallowed. And licked the frosting off of his mouth. And he took another bite. And started chewing**-"

_"Not in hell, and certainly not in Fanfiction hell."_ Danny sighed.

"In that case, I'm going to call Vlad and demand that he stop the mind-controlling thing, because I refuse to believe someone would be that awful enough to write about my mother that way," Danny grumbled, moving his wet bangs out of his eyes as he reached for the nearby telephone. "And we're going to assume that by calling up my worst nemesis and ask him not to do something, he's totally not going to do it."

The authoress cleared her throat nervously.

_"I don't know if you wanna do that, Danny. If you talk dirty to a vampire, they get offended and call the police. If you want a vampire to talk dirty to you, then I think it's typically $2.95 a minute."_

Danny cast a revolted look at the ceiling, but he said nothing as he dialed a number he never thought he would before. His heart began to flutter like an excited schoolgi-

Irritated at the last addition, Danny put his hand over the speaker and growled,

"If you make any more slash references, I will cut you. I don't care how I have to do it. I will friggin' make it work."

_"Awwww."_

The phone rang once, twice, and then-

"Hello?" he heard Vlad answer irritably. "Who is this?"

Amazingly weak at the knees with relief to hear the disappointingly non-sparkly man's nasty voice, Danny exhaled, pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingertips, and snapped, "Vlad, I-"

"Candy, is that you?" asked Vlad.

The boy blanched.

_What? _ Ha-ha, fruitloopy-man was being fruitloopy. That was hilarious, and never got old. Oh, who else but a creepy and obviously desperate man to come up with such shenanigans. "Vlad, I'm here to ask you to-"

"Would you like to suck my lollipop?" asked Vlad, his voice becoming darkly seductive.

Danny paled considerably.

"Vlad, this isn't one of 'those' types of-"

"Are you a parking ticket? Because you have 'fine' written all over you. And would you, my dear, perhaps care for some cream pie later on?"

A pause. Red-faced, Danny slowly lowered the phone, placed it back onto the receiver, and carefully stood.

And then he blew the phone up.

~(0*0)~

Needing some medication and food after this particularly traumatic experience, Danny made his way to the kitchen, wiping his face off with a towel as he went.

_ "Danny, I wouldn't do that,"_ warned the Authoress, her voice pitch rising as Danny made to open the door. However, Danny's ears might as well have been bleeding, and he didn't hear her in time.

And then, he saw it. His heart stopped in midbeat, and his legs nearly gave out underneath him in sheer horror. The Authoress groaned.

_"Congratulations. You just stepped into the next layer of hell, Danny. Bad OCs." _

~(0*0)~

She looked like a ripped off picture of Danny Phantom, with edited hair, the addition of breasts, and boots and gloves that had been given a different color. To Danny, it felt like someone was trying to improve the Golden Retriever by painting it white, and covering it with polka dots. She turned her sparkling purple eyes that were probably meant to be a mix between the intelligence in Sam's, and the kind vulnerability that usually showed up in the eyes of timid anime girls.

She smiled, and Danny shuddered at the fact that instead of pearly whites, her all teeth were made out of gold.

"I'm Mindy Princess Veronica McSparklypants the III. Call me Mindy." Said the horrid abomination.

"My name's Danny," said Danny, backing away, "Call me Ishmael."

"I'm Vlad's daughter and Pariah's niece and my friends call me Butterfly."

"Some people call other people sins against nature. Doesn't mean that you should."

The girl let out a trilling laugh.

"You have such a great sense of humor. Did you know that I can make the weather change according to my mood?"

Danny looked nauseated. Well, more nauseated than he did when this stupid misadventure first began.

"Um…I think that Vortex's power….are you quite certain you're not copying off him?"

Suddenly, Mindy Phantom started, her eyes doubling over. With a groan, her gloved hands moved towards her stomach, and she paled considerably.

"Um….uh-oh….I have another ability coming up right this second. Would you like to see it?"

Nonplussed, Danny just stared at her, quipping an eyebrow when Mindy started hacking. Then, the ghost boy leapt back in horror as Mindy vomited up a blinding array of glittering, colorful sick onto the floor, in seven delightful and tasteful hues. It looked like someone had melted the Crayola ultimate box with a magnifying glass.

Then, she threw up again.

And again.

And again.

Soon enough, Mindy recovered herself, and glanced to give the terrified boy a somewhat seductive smile as she tried not to heave again.

"This is where rainbows come from," the girl said cheerfully, not quite seeming to note that Danny looked ready to double over himself,

"And, as for where smiley faces come from, I can gladly show you if you're willing to follow me to the bat-"

Suddenly with a scream of despair, Danny charged forwards, heaving a chair like a battering ram in her direction. Princess What's-her-face-Mindy cowered in terror.

"Blunt objects! My one weakness!"

* * *

><p>"Authoress, I hate you more than George Lucas hates Star Wars," grumbled Danny, as he rocketed away from the house, wishing that he hadn't already heaved the contents of his stomach out."I gotta get to school and recover some lingering thread of sanity before I kill myself."<p>

The authoress had already stepped out to create Danny's burial shroud for after the events in Part 3 of the third Level of Danny Phantom Fanfiction hell; easily one of the scariest and most mind-numbing and mortifying of all:

Pairings.

* * *

><p><em>Well, I suppose I owe Danny a little cash for his something for his pain and suffering, huh? *Sighs* Anyhoodle, I think Danny broke a little here, but he'll back to his cheerful self when he's not contemplating throwing himself down a well. Please review!<em>


	5. Can You Feel The Loathing Tonight 3 of 4

Bad Fanfiction

_Can You Feel The Loathing Tonight? 3 of 4 _

Ah, I've been seriously looking forward to this chapter….I'm really an evil person at heart. Nonetheless, if Danny does not survive this chapter, I'm quite pleased to tell you that all of my lovely readers are cordially invited to his funeral. The dress code is strictly emo, and cookies will be served.

Normally, I'd plead for you not to sue me, but typically, I'm basking in the terrible satisfaction knowing that YOU CAN'T! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!

But better safe than sorry. ^^ Please, enjoy this merry little installment of Danny's misadventures in hell. Sorry I took so long to update…:p….Part 4 is coming soon. It got extended.

...yet again.

(~*0*~)

He'd never thought he'd believe it, but Danny would have to place this experience as more depressing than that time he'd watched the Map on _Dora the Explorer_ get replaced by a GPS.

Scowling heavily at the familiar sight of his town below him, he soared over the landscape, rolling onto his back and gliding when a gust of wind _whooshed_ in his direction, carrying him upwards.

"So, what's next?" asked Danny grumpily. "I appear in the dreams of emotionally confused emos? I appear in a cameo of _The Fairly OddParents_? I die a horrific death? Everyone dies? My evil half comes back, tells me that I'm his father, and that if Vlad and I don't buy him a race car bed, he's going to murder us and everyone we know? I go shoe-shopping? Get sold into slavery and develop highly illogical and essentially baffling relationships with angsty teenagers that want to eat me? I die a horrific death? You die a horrific death? I buy a puppy? You die a horrific death?"

"_Ha, ha, Danny_," replied the Authoress grumpily from overhead. "_You better cut the sarcasm, or so help me, I will drop you in a crossover with the_ Muppets _so fast your oversized puppet head with no legs and a mouth like pac-man's will spin." _

The teenager froze, twisted himself around, and started zooming forwards, biting his lip as mental scars started accosting his fractured mind again.

"No," he said softly, wondering if he ought just to turn human and plummet to his death now. "I'll be good. I promise."

_"Yeah, dat's what I thought you said. Anyhoodle, Danny, where are you going now?"_

The boy simply shrugged.

"I dunno. I figure the plot has to be around here somewhere, so I might as well go look for it."

_"Why not drop by your friend Tucker's place?"_ suggested the authoress. Danny scoffed.

"How about we not and say we did? No one loves Tucker. Not even Tucker wants to be Tucker, for Pete's sake! He's like the Samwise Gangee of the series, except he's not nearly as loyal, and he doesn't kick butt with a hoe."

_"Danny, I think I need to have you dragged by your ears to the censorship department."_

"I meant in a friggin' garden," mumbled Danny, blushing.

_"Oh. But certainly you don't mean that about your friend Tucker? You've been *&^%$# forever."_

Rubbing his aching temples, Danny started to drop elevation, eyeing his school hopefully.

"The only thing that I MEAN to say while an authoress is acting as my eternal tormenter is what I mean. And what in the world is a _*&^%$#_?" asked Danny suspiciously as he lightly landed in the bushes surrounding the school, and, with a flash of light, transformed into Danny Fenton. "Since when did you and the censors team up?"

_"Since Dora murdered Diego in the battle over control of the world, and is preoccupied with ordering a coup de grace on Hello Kitty's life, actually. The censors just kept watch in the shadows, making sure that when Diego was executed, he bled gumdrops and raspberry jam instead of actual blood. I had to admit; their brand of evil was a mite better than the one I normally dish out, so I started taking lessons. But I digress: Danny, how do you feel about your_ _*&^%$#?_"

"I…I dunno," answered Danny, stumped as he slowly walked up the steps to Casper High. "Can't you just ignore the censor and tell me what _&^%$# is, exactly?"_

_"Do you promise not to tell anyone? I want to hold onto my censorship membership card. It gets me a decent percentage off certain items at the grocery store."_

Danny rolled his eyes, but nodded an affirmative as he entered his school. At last, the Authoress sighed.

_"Fine. The word is_ 'friend.' _Now, be sure not to say that despicable word to anyone."_

Danny blanched as he made his way down a flight of stairs, wondering why no one was around. It wasn't THAT early….

"'Friend?' What, have the censors not gotten to replacing the words 'buttercup' and 'cupcakes' yet?" he asked sardonically as he reached his locker, and started fiddling with his combination.

_"That word is forbidden here,"_ said the Authoress darkly. _"I'd be very careful not to use it. You could wind up getting seriously hurt." _

The boy cast a puzzled glance upwards, but before he could ask, he heard a familiar voice call out, and he turned around to see his best friend since second grade running towards him, face lit up with what could only be described as catharsis.

"DANNY!"

"BAGGAGE!" Danny cried out in turn, and then blushed. Darn it, he'd promised maybe two or three years ago to stop calling his best amigo that. He really hated being a jerk.

Tucker was panting when he'd reached him, and actually bent over; his face extremely flushed, hand clutching at a stitch in his abdomen, chest rising up and down from the exertion.

Privately, this did not surprise Danny overmuch, as Tucker had the athleticism of a dyslexic hermit crab, and it was accomplishment that his friend had ran for a full nine seconds without needing a medic.

What DID surprise him was the fact that Tucker was running to begin with. The kid had very effectively faked his death in the fourth grade to avoid a particularly painful fitness test. Tucker had only come around once he was positive the test was over, and that the game was probably up once people tearfully started shoveling soil on top of his casket.

Either he had some very important news, or there was a sale on Apple products. After a quick glance behind him confirmed the negative, Danny turned around with a raised eyebrow once Tucker had finally straightened up, his gasping easing somewhat.

"I-_gasp_-found-_gasp_-love-_gasp_!"

"Quit saying '_gasp_' already. I get your point," said Danny grumpily. "Tuck, you have no idea what kind of day I've been having. You see, I-"

"Everything's always about _you,_ isn't it?" interjected Tucker angrily, the sparkle in his dark eyes fading. "Well, what about me? What about Tuck's needs, huh? Why do I only get an episode to myself when I'm being an angry, hormonal teenage girl? I'll let you know being one of your sidekicks suck. My heart's essentially withered away and died inside, and you're too busy whining about psychotic ghosts who want to eat your innards and wear your pelt like a hat instead of listening to my fascinating exploits with-"

"Hey, that's great, Tucker," said Danny, from behind his grit teeth. "You said you finally found love? Did you confess to her?"

A blush rose into Tucker's cheeks.

"Ah, well, um, y'see-"

"This is great, Tuck. You've been eyeing her for over a year now," said Danny approvingly. "For awhile, I thought you were jerking her around with all those candlelit dinners and refusals to return her calls. Did you pick out a nice ring yet? Hopefully, you weren't cheap about it, cause otherwise-"

Tucker simply stared at Danny, wringing his hands.

"No," he interjected at last, sighing wistfully. "Danny….there…..I left her. I found someone else."

Silence. Deathly silence. Danny's cerulean eyes went wide with horror.

"Tuck, tell me you had one too many Twinkies from your private stash," he croaked, the color fading out of his cheeks rapidly, complexion turning an ashy white. "You….you…..you didn't…."

Tucker's averted his gaze; Danny seized him by the scruff of his shirt.

"No. No. You love her. You couldn't have….you're lying….you didn't….."

"She was beautiful," said Tucker hoarsely, still not meeting Danny's burning gaze. "She's younger, smaller, more polished, more fun, and more…._with it_, y'know? I could be with her all day long-without any other contact, and not care. She lets me see the world through a new pair of eyes-a new, glorious set of eyes that-"

"Tuck, you were going STEADY with the U-phone 3!" Danny cried out in disgust and dismay. "Have you _forgotten _what she's done for you? The _sacrifices_ she's made to be with you? She even got over the fact that you dumped the U-phone 2 for her and_ lied_ about it, because you said that she was '_the one_!' How could you just leave her in the cold after all you've been through together? You're a heartless jerk!"

"You don't understand!" Tucker protested, now sounding near tears. "The U-phone 4 is _shinier_ than the U-phone 3! So much shinier-I'm afraid to even touch her and get my dirty fingerprints all over her, she's so lovely! I bought her a fancy case just to keep my baby safe and a promise to get her the fanciest, most wonderful ringtone for the fanciest, most wonderful phone I know!"

"Tuck, the U-phone 2 _served time_ for you," Danny said coldly, "After you FRAMED her that day you decided to "borrow" the U-phone 3 and take her out for a spin around the neighborhood! And when she got out, you turned her away, WHEN SHE GOT A PICTURE OF YOU AND THAT DIRTY TRAMP 3 SNUGGLING TOGETHER ON THE COUCH! I thought you really meant it when you said 'forever' with her. I thought you'd stopped moving from young model to young model like some lecherous shark on a feeding frenzy! And the only difference between 3 and 4 is that 4 is younger, and has a compass mechanism on it! That's all! You'll never find love, because you're always too busy looking for the next big thing!"

His best friend's eyes teared up behind his glasses, and the boy turned away, trembling like a leaf.

"You're wrong. I love her. I will have no other besides her. I thought you'd be happy for me."

"HARD FOR ME TO BE HAPPY AFTER THE FIRST THREE TIMES, YOU HYPOCRITE!" Danny shouted, as a sobbing Tucker ran away. With a groan, Danny leaned against his locker, and slowly slid through the floor, face in his hands.

"I died inwardly as I realized Tucker has no place inside these stories other as a sad, technological-pervert in denial. I died a little more inside when I realize that this isn't so far from the truth," Danny muttered to himself, unconsciously rocking back and forth. "And so, with nothing left to live for, I went postal, delivered unto everyone around me a swift and terrible demise, hurled myself off the nearest building, and embraced sweet, sweet death."

Danny dazedly looked up, only to notice that people were uneasily creeping around him, giving him a wide berth. He sighed.

"And so, I then realized I was talking out loud to myself again. I made a note to myself to stop doing this."

"I'm going to throw you into the recycle bin," Danny muttered begrudgingly. "And then, I'll right click and delete you because then you'd just be taking up unnecessary space on my-"

_"Danny, it's only an honest observation,"_ said the Authoress patiently, as Danny tugged his books out of his locker. "_More often than not, Tucker gets paired up…um…somewhat oddly due to his obsession with technology. For example, Technus-"_

The Authoress then noted that Danny's right eye was twitching, and so, out of an uncharacteristic moment of mercy, she delivered unto him a bottle of antipsychotic meds, which tumbled through the air and landed into his hands. With a sigh, Danny tucked them into his pocket, and turned around to close his locker.

"Thanks….um….I guess. Say, what's _this_ doing here?"

His eyes had caught something shining dully inside his locker. Peering curiously inside, Danny noted his trademark thermos was sitting inside, where he had most definitely_ not_ had left it the day before. Bemused, Danny scooped up the device, wondering absentmindedly if he'd simply forgotten it. The Authoress hurriedly cleared her throat, and when she spoke next, her voice was tense; anxious even.

_"Danny. Put that down. Right now."_

Bewildered, Danny turned around the thermos in his hands. He noted that it did look somewhat shinier than usual….glossy, even.

_"Danny, if you know what's good for you, PUT THAT DOWN AND GET AS MUCH DISTANCE FROM THAT THING ASAP."_

"Why?" Danny asked, now getting worried. "Is this some kind of plot twist? Is there some kind of evil ghost trapped inside of here?"

Suddenly, dread pooled into his stomach like a flood of icy water.

"Oh, no. No. Please don't tell me the plot for this level means that Clockwork l-left me to deal with…with my evil half?"

The device almost slipped out of his fingers, but with a cry, the teen seized it, anxiously eyeing the release button. Oh, no. No. Even if it WOULD be something of a relief, Armageddon wouldn't be a particularly nice gift to grant to the world. Not yet.

The Authoress spoke again.

_"No….no…there ARE stories like that, but don't worry. It's just….ah….um….."_

Goodness, he'd never heard her sound so awkward.

_"Do you like 'Cream Soup?'"_

Danny blinked.

"You're worried because I have soup for lunch?"

_"No Danny. Not REAL soup. I'm telling you-I'm BEGGING you-as your Authoress, to throw that thing away. Have you ever heard of this pairing name?"_

Taken aback, Danny nonetheless scoffed.

"What sad person in the world would have enough time on their hands or the _incentive_ to come up with pairing…..oh, right, people like you. Well, you mentioned 'Gray Ghost,' which involves Val and I, but what would 'Cream Soup' possibly….."

A pause. Danny blinked. And then, the teen became overwhelmed with sheer terror and existential angst.

**"No."**

_"Yes."_

"No. No. Just….no. No. No. No."

"Interestingly enough, yes. Now put that thing away before a magic fairy comes to grant your thermos' greatest wish, which is to become human for you. Of course, he won't be able to become a 'real human'….ghost….thing…..until he proves himself to be unselfish and kind, which means he'll have to fight alongside you as your new partner, protecting you out of the sheer love in his stoic metal heart-"

Danny slammed his thermos back inside of his locker, his heart pounding.

"What makes it a 'he?'" he demanded. "Why…if you have to come up with an idea….so _sick_….and so _stupid_….!"

"Well, I suppose that's a fair point. Authors like to note how fond that Thermos was of having you inside it, if you pardon my crudeness-"

Danny hurtled out of the hall, mindlessly banging himself into miscellaneous lockers on the way, screaming all the while. But before he could catapult himself into absolute madness, another shriek resounded behind him.

"FENTINA!"

Startled, Danny whipped around, his heart pounding wildly as the voice of one of his least favorite people in the world permeated his ears.

_Oh, no._ His heart sank. _The authoress must have decided to go back to angst._

Well, he supposed overdrawn close-ups of mopey teenagers in mediocre plots were almost as good as this happy disaster approaching. Hopefully, a bruised kidney or two would distract him from the misery of his existence.

Dash Baxter was storming towards him, an evil smile stretched out on his face, and hair generously gelled to the extreme that one would be comfortably able to guess that, by his slouch, muscles, jock jacket, and the slightly intimidating brass knuckles he was brandishing that the school administration did not seem to mind that he had on school grounds, Dash was a huge jerk.

Desperate for escape, Danny anxiously pressed his back to a cool locker, brow beginning to gleam with perspiration, despite the unimportant fact that he could destroy Dash with one hand behind his back if he wanted to. Secret identity and stuff. He suddenly felt the urge to run to the bathroom, lock himself in a stall, pull out his diary, and cry over the fact that nobody understood him. Or found him attractive.

But existential angst all aside, Dash was suddenly directly in front of him, brass knuckles falling to the floor with a decisive THUNK. Glowering meaningfully, Dash advanced on Danny's terrified form, his legs trembling like jello beneath him. Danny cowered, anticipating the worst.

Then, Dash's glare dropped; his brow unfurrowed. With a sigh, the bully dropped to one knee, and gently took Danny by the hand, cradling it fondly against the side of his face.

"Fentina. Despite the fact that I use every waking second when you're in my visual to cause you mental distress and physical harm, I need you to understand just how tenderly I love you."

He pulled out a bouquet of flowers behind his back, smiling broadly.

And so, the screaming began once again.

Where had they all come from? People had come streaming from every door, mostly girls, all screaming joyfully as they made a beeline for Danny, with the energy usually found in starving predators stalking prey. As he still somewhat prized his scalp, Danny had to hurtle away, doubling back once another flood of teenagers came racing towards him (Lead by Kwan, much to his horror) and had to sprint down a third hallway, heart pounding in sheer horror. The two groups were closing in on him, and Star (A track Star)happily ran close enough behind him to pry out a lock of hair, too euphoric to care that Danny was shrieking like a banshee and kicking mindlessly in her direction. Once he'd slipped away and Star was admiring her newfound prize, several girls had come lunging from every direction like several sharks around spilled blood.

In short, it was far uglier than any Black Friday sale Danny had ever seen. And Tuck had camped outside Awesome Electronics on Thanksgiving, well supplied with several of his mother's homemade pies and a chainsaw in case anyone was impolite enough to try and cut in front of him.

Thankfully, Kwan and Dash were having a duel to the death over Danny's love, which slowed down the flow of fans streaming in after him just a little, but a little was all Danny really needed. He immediately hurled himself into a nearby closet and locked it, wincing as a dozen hands immediately began clawing at the window glass, making a horrific screeching sound that had Danny doubled over in agony.

"Help!" He screamed. "Heeeellllppppp meeee! What are you doing? _Why is this happening_?"

_"Danny, you're the most popular character in which to ship for in the Danny Phantom fandom," _reminded the Authoress gently, cringing inwardly as someone outside shouted for another to fetch Tucker's chainsaw. "_According to the fan base, you've had an affair with virtually every girl you know, every guy you know, yourself, some shiny objects, animals, OCs, and the authoresses of most of these stories. You really need to learn to make up your mind, hon_."

"Heeelllllllppppppp!" Danny screamed again, as impatient girls seized one of their own, and started throwing her against the door in a battering-ram like motion. "I don't even KNOW any of these girls! HEEEELLLLPPPPP! POLICE!"

_"That's not going to do you much good, Danny. The police don't even really show up in the series-"_

"Probably too busy eating donuts," Danny grumbled, flinching as the glass outside the janitor's closet began to crack.

_"-but, if you're looking for some authorities to come and bail you out, I'm happy to tell you that the two unnamed Guys in White characters also find you sexually attractive, which, according to the yaoi fangirl base, is the actual reason that they're trying to capture you. I think one or more fictions might have been written about you, them, and a threesome attempt."_

"….take me to the Tragedy fanfictions," said Danny weakly, looking longingly at a nearby bottle of bleach as the noise outside only grew louder, and angrier, like an overturned hornet's nest. "I don't want to live like this, anymore. I thought it'd be great to have all these girls coming onto me, but now-"

Before Danny could finish his ranting lament, a ghost immediately phased into tangibility right next to him, making the poor boy shout in fear before the glowing specter of all things electronic offered him a toothy smile, and a box of chocolates.

"FEAR ME, GHOST CHILD! FOR I, TECHNUS, DREADED SPECTER OF ALL THINGS ELECTRONIC, wish to take you out on a quaint date to the-"

Danny abruptly shot the startled ghost with an ectobolt, and immediately phased through the wall, but not before vomiting extensively on the ground. The door burst open, and the crowds, upon seeing there was only a groaning specter writhing on the ground, howled in disappointment.

Dazed, Technus held up a hand to his wild white hair, happy to know that the four bottles of gel that he put in every day were still having a keen effect.

"The ghost boy hit me," he mused, spatting out ectoplasm as droves of people hurried away from the closet, some girls stopping to kick Technus for the cardinal sin of not being Danny. His black, puffy eyes behind his shattered glasses would have sparkled if they didn't look like raisins.

"He must really, really like me."


	6. Can You Feel The Loathing Tonight 4 of 4

Bad Fanfiction

Can You Feel The Loathing Tonight? Part 4 of 4

And so, we come to the end of the dreaded pairings segment...kinda sort of. ;) I actually take it relatively easy on Danny this chapter, all things considering...

I do not own Danny Phantom, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is remarkably unfortunate. :D

~(*0*)~

* * *

><p>This was the final clincher; Danny no longer feared damnation, for he had seen the very worst that Fanfiction could possibly offer. It was the very worst and cruelest of human activity, something concocted in the darkest dreams of atrocious, malignant archdemons...something that greedily fed on broken dreams and drank of children's tears.<p>

Something concocted by young women with far too much time on their hands.

As he zipped through the skies in panic, trying not to notice the masses chasing his shadow below, he abruptly slammed into a hard surface, making him see stars. Dazed, he flew back, rubbing his head and groaning.

But a relieved smile immediately replaced his anguished scowl, and he threw his arms around his old friend, trembling with relief.

_An ally!_

"Wulf! Oh, man, I'm so glad to see you!"

"_Amiko_!" cried Wulf, tail waving energetically as he wrapped Danny up in a strong embrace. _"Mi amas vin."_

"What?" asked Danny breathlessly, wiping off the copious amounts of dog-slobber dripping on his face. The Authoress awkwardly cleared her throat from overhead.

_"Yes, well, this has been a lovely little visit, I'm sure, but I think Danny needs to go. To Northern Greenland. Preferably right now."_

Danny blinked as Wulf snuggled him, murmuring phrases like "_Mi amas vin." _and _"Vi flari simila strawberries"_ as he buried his long snout into Danny's dark hair, inhaling. The teen cast the wolf a puzzled look.

"Uh...Authoress? I can't understand him."

An enormous book came hurtling down from the sky, and Danny caught it, pleased to see that it was an Esperanto-English dictionary. While Wulf lapped at his cheek with perhaps a bit more enthusiasm than necessary, Danny flicked through it, stopping at a promising-looking page.

Immediately, the bottom dropped out of his stomach and Danny's suicidal urge kicked in again, which is surprising only because any sane man would have killed himself long before this far in the adventure.

"What the fork," Danny said weakly, terror stopping his blood cold. "What the _fork_...?"

_"What, do you think these writers are above beastality?"_ asked the Authoress darkly. _"After all, Disney's made it perfectly acceptable ever since Beauty And The-"_

Before the authoress could finish, Danny abruptly shot the lovesick wolf down, efficiently breaking his heart (And his spine) as he plummeted straight into a factory, and abruptly sent it up in flames because it just _does_. For those of you worried about the werewolf, the authoress feels it is her duty to inform you that he is fine. Shortly after his angsty and painful recovery, Wulf decided to live as a hermit in the wood, chasing after average-looking, B-grade actresses who continuously bite their lips, thus earning instant fame, a creepy cult following, and an action-figure line for little boys wishing to play with homoerotic little dolls.

_"Danny, I might have to send the humane society after you,"_ warned the Authoress as Danny took off again, retching considerably as he did so.

"You're one to talk," grumbled Danny, rubbing his mouth with a sick look on his face. "You're anything but humane. I've started thinking I might have died horribly awhile back, and you just happen to be my eternal tormenter."

The author shrugged, realized that Danny couldn't hear it, and simply said:

_"If it makes you feel any better, I have someone who'd like to offer you a little advice." _

Suddenly, Bob Barker's voice cheerfully rang out from the heavens:

_"Remember kids, spay and neuter your pets!" _

~(*0*)~

"I reeeaalllly think I learned my lesson," said Danny anxiously, flinching as he flew past a bunch of crows. God help him if they started coming on to him. Immediately, he unwillingly thought of Vlad's vultures, and he immediately started hurling in midair, sending globs of sick hurtling down thirty miles an hour on some vehicle. Which apparently had a mind of its own and didn't mind, because it too loved Danny, evidently.

Once he finished hacking, Danny imploringly looked up at the sky, wringing his gloved hands like an uke.

"Uke?" Danny asked, sounding puzzled at the narration. "What's that?"

_"A Japanese term. People love to mix your highly-American cartoon with random Japanese elements found in anime or manga pop culture. It makes a lot of sense." _

"But what _is_ an uke?"

_"I think those stupid yaoi volumes have something to do with it. Essentially, if there's not at least uke, there's trouble. Evidently, it makes the rape scenes that appear in 90% of those stories-"_

"Wait, wait, wait-wha? _Please_ tell me that's not a-"

"-not that I'd actually BUY one of those, but I HAVE um, well..."

"Lady," Danny growled, fists curling. "I might not be able to rip out your spine in a matter most **inappropiate** for rated _G for 7 and Up_, but I swear I will turn human right now and plummet to my death if you don't tell me what an uke is."

_"I wouldn't do that, darling,"_ said the Authoress sadly. "_If you do, your ghost half will fly out of you, because it can, evidently, and rescue you before admitting his deep love for you. For himself, basically. And he might confess first rather than rescue you, because first things first."_

"...what."

_"Then, he'll fly you off to a rooftop to have wild and unprotected sex, because he loves you that much. And if you must know, the words 'uke' and 'seme' go together. 'Seme' means dominating, relentless, intense."_

"And 'uke?'"

_"Uh...'Not Seme.'"_

"Please tell me I'm the Seme one in one of my many relationships," Danny pleaded. "With Valerie, maybe?"

_"No, darling. She's your Romeo, your Mario, your Prince Charming, your sparkly vampire, your Sultan of Swing, your everything..."_

"BUT WHY?"

"Well...let me put it this way: your masculinity is ranked right below Bieber."

"...I hate you," said Danny bitterly. "Like how Santa hates poor people."

_"I love you too, Danny. Like 98% of the characters in your cartoon."_

~(*0*)~

"Can you _pleeease_ get me out of here?" Danny pleaded, streaking away from some very love-struck pigeons. "I've learned my lesson. Being the "it" man sucks. If I have to be this any longer, I'm going to turn into a **'hit' **man."

_"Oooh, a pun. I find those to be quite...punny."_

Danny shot the sky a defeated look.

"Did I just enter into another stage of hell or something? Bad puns?"

_"Nope. You're still stuck on pairings, which is decidedly so awful that it would probably span several chapters, for some weird and ungodly reason."_

Danny sighed as he soared higher into the air. Maybe living out the rest of his days in space wasn't such a bad alternative...

"Please tell me the next level is nothing remotely close to pairings. If you give me handcuffs and whips for the entire duration of the torture..."

_"That's more akin to pairings than you think, Danny," _said the Authoress cheerfully. _"Specifically, threesomes."_

Danny's blue eye twitched. The authoress continued speaking.

_"Well...we were going to pay a visit to the Nicktoons' graveyard, but I think we'll simply skip that. I've think you've heard me give enough cracks on that walking cheeseblock without a soul."_

"Spongebob's there too?" asked Danny hopefully, a ray of sunlight peeking through the clouds. The Authoress sighed.

_"Ten years old, and still kicking. "_

Danny immediately ceased his ascension to death, mouth dropping, dumbfounded.

"No. You lie. You lie with your whore mouth. You kick puppies and lie."

_"No, darling."_

"Spongebob hasn't been funny since 2003!" Danny raved. "They're still making new episodes?"

_"Evidently." _

"What kind of role-model is that for young children?" the ghost boy ranted, staring down at his home state with disgust. "I go out and save the world's sorry ass before bedtime on a daily basis, whereas Spongebob is a workaholic trapped in a sweatshop, and he'd flip burgers until his fingers fell off, if they'd let him. At least I have some freaking ambition, here!"

_"It could be worse," _the Authoress said gently. "_At least your integrity was protected and you weren't exploited and forced to have a million plus items engraved with your face, female hygenic products included."_

"...what."

_"As you might say darling, 'I shit you not.'"_

Dumbfounded, Danny simply floated above the world with a broken brain, unable to notice that Plasmius had just materialized behind him, and was wearing one of many rape faces. He seized the startled boy by the shoulders, and whipped him around, leering at him.

"My uke!" he cried. "You are mine at last!"

Danny stared at his chin, looking bewildered.

"Dude, I think you have some sort of parasite growing on your fa...oh, wait, that's just your goatee. So, uh...what are you up to? Smuggling drugs? Stalking people? Distributing children porn? Smuggling child porn? Producing child porn? Starring in-"

_"Darling, any more of that and Chris Hansen will be knocking at your door,"_ said the Authoress. Danny scowled at his rival, who only sneered back.

"I'm going to knock you out, imprison you in my home, and force you to fall hopelessly in love with me," Vlad announced, as if he were talking about last week's weather. Danny simply stared at him, looking bored.

"Sure. Nothing says 'I love you' like abduction and rape. I'll totally be hitting on you. Couldn't you have just purchased me chocolates? And you've spent twenty-odd episodes trying to kick me in the face. Lovers don't kick each other in the face."

"What are you, gay?" Vlad asked. "God, I hope you are. If not, then I will simply have to change your sexual orientation, which is totally probable, by the way. I _need _you."

"I need you. Like I need a horse kick to the mouth," replied Danny, fingering the item the Authoress had tossed to him in one of her rare generous moments in his pocket, which suddenly exists because the Authoress says it does.

"How ironic is it that you, the son of my most hated enemy, should become my love!" Vlad cried out, sounding tormented. Danny glowered at him.

"How ironic is it that you, who essentially is one of those angry, constipated chocolate muffins in the Mario games to me, are declaring your love to me? And, as for the 'son of your most hated enemy' thing..."

"That's not important," breathed Vlad, pulling Danny into a rad bromantic hug. Danny abruptly kicked Vlad in another area that caused him significantly more pain than if he'd been kicked in the face, swearing like a man who has lost his toupee.

"**YES, it is, you god*&%^$$^ing, *&^$##)ing, pony-riding, *&^$#$-driving son of a (*^%$#), vitamin-rich (08615!** You know nothing's more _unforgivable _than being granted superhuman powers that ultimately led to riches and worldwide prestige. What else did my Dad do to you, other than swipe the chick you had a crush on in your heydays? Did he kill your dog or something? And that's another thing; how on **Earth** did you fail to kill a man who hides cake in his socks and needs a scooby snack after crossing the street with his thunder thighs? Sure, I figure it got difficult to axe him when I got ghost powers, but still. Still. God, villains have such low standards these days; they send out minions to do their dirty-work alone, watch them fail on a daily basis, and then continue to lather, rinse, repeat. You _suck_."

The Authoress tried to get a word in, but Danny ranted on, infuriated.

"Did you honestly wait for twenty years when you could have done it by yourself in a heartbeat? And while I'm sure that while girls are thinking 'OMG taht iz s00000 romenic111!1111!' for you to still be in love with your classmate after oh, a generation or so, but that pretty much labels you as a stalker who, despite having a billion dollars and some dashing, albeit creepy good looks, can't get some anywhere else."

"Did you mention 'dashing good looks?'" said Vlad hopefully. Danny groaned, and abruptly sent Vlad hurtling down to Earth after a well-aimed squirt of Rape-Be-Gone.©

"By the way, Count Chocula is a much better vampire than you!" Danny called down innocently.

~(*0*)~


End file.
